


Tincture

by SonjaJade



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8742736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: Life in the vial is awful.





	

Darkness was all they had seen for many, many days now.  Their entire universe had been shrunk down to a single pool of blackness, full of nothing and nowhere on the horizon.  Movement they could sense- violent earthquakes and twisting upheavals thrashed them up one side of the world then the other.  It was awful living this way, especially when all of them were crying out for peace and sunshine, anything other than the never ending bleakness.  
  
And the screaming…  Never ending screaming and crying, that’s all there was to hear.  Well, it wasn’t an _audible_ kind of sound, more like a sound that reverberated in your sinus and your eyes, but never in your ears.  One of them tried to calm the others, tried to sing a peaceful tune, but it was drowned out by the desperation to escape their prison, and so they all wailed, morning, noon, night, and every second in between.  
  
It didn’t use to be this way.  Sometimes they could remember sitting quiet and still and the screams would die down to moans and general complaining.  Those days were better.  Sometimes there was even something pleasant to look at besides the pitch black that surrounded them now.  All they’re certain of, from the sounds they could hear and make out, was that they are all being carried to somewhere far away, somewhere hot (seems they’ve known nothing but cold lately, maybe hot will be better?), and they’re being carried there by persons who did not imprison them.  Perhaps this is their ticket to freedom at last?  They can only hope and pray that their gods have not forgotten them in their most tumultuous hour.

* * *

  
Lan Fan scanned the perimeter with eagle sharp eyes.  Finding nothing, she leapt down from the tree limb and plucked one of the fish Mei had cooked from around the campfire.  “It is still safe, Young Lord?” she asked.  
  
Ling patted the vial in his pocket.  “Yes.”  Mei continued to scowl at them both as he mused aloud.  “I wonder why they call it a Philosopher’s Stone…  It’s plainly not a stone if it has to be kept in a tiny glass jar.”  
  
“I do not know, my Lord,” Lan Fan answered.  She passed him a canteen.  “Please be sure to get enough, we’ll be crossing into the desert soon.  You will need your strength.”  
  
He nodded and they went back to the meal, ready to return home.


End file.
